Progeny
by JadedEpiphany
Summary: Bellatrix is selected by Lord Voldemort for a special task that will bring the end to Harry Potter once an for all. But when she learns the full extent of the Dark Lord's plot, Bellatrix goes on the run using the brains of the Golden Trio as collateral. But when the opportunity to save her own life is clouded by desire, will the proud Death Eater choose to embrace her dark duty?
**A/N: I've been gone for too long I think it's time I bring it back lol. So this story here is something that's been on my mind for some time. It will be an eventual Bellamione. I hope you all enjoy it. I will try to keep updates weekly but as I work six days a week I can't make any promises. I ask that if you do like what you read that you drop a line or two or more in a review and who knows, this will more than likely give me the motivation to update regularly. This story is currently without a beta reader so please bear with any spelling eras. And now, without further ado, I present..Progeny!**

 **Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to the Harry Potter universe with the exception of any OCs belong to Queen J. and I would never in any way attempt to discredit her and her genius.**

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Taking a deep and cleansing breath in, Bellatrix entered the dining room of Malfoy Manor. There were no torches lit save one, bathing the room in an ominously dim orange glow. The shadowy of the corners of the large room were as pitch black as her maiden name and yet the witch limped slowly to the the long table where at the head sat the Dark Lord.

His hands were steepled below his serpent like face, ruby red eyes narrowed. Bellatrix couldn't help the involuntary sharp intake of breath that filled her lungs nor the increase in her heart rate as she stepped ever nearer to the sorcerer that she had pledged her full allegiance to.

"You sent for me, My Lord?"

Her voice was pitched airily and child like, a far from the rich and throaty alto that had laced her vocal chords before her bid in Azkaban.

"Sit down Bella," the Dark Lord said smoothly, "I have something I wish to discuss with you."

The ebony haired witch eagerly pulled out the chair first from her Master's right hand side, positively gleeful at the privilege of being selected for a private audience. For the most loyal of Death Eaters, it was the highest honor one could receive.

"As you well know, this situation with the Potter boy is growing precarious," Lord Voldemort spoke calmly though there was a gossamer thread of rage concealed behind the words, a threat of danger that made Bellatrix's skin erupt in goosebumps.

"My Lord," she murmured, bowing her head, knowing better than to agree with the statement. While it was true that Potter and his army of filth were wielding some sort of upper hand, it went against everything that she was supposed to stand for to admit to it. The death of Dumbledore was supposed to have been the death knell for the side of the light, ringing in Potter's ultimate demise. However weeks had passed and still, the boy lived and the pathetic Order of the Phoenix seemed to be going just as strong as ever.

"However I believe I have come up with the perfect plan to end Potter once and for all and that plan, Bella, includes you."

"Me, My Lord," Bellatrix gasped, wondering if she might faint from the sheer joy, "Yes, My Lord. Yes, of course. Whatever it is I wish to be of any and every help to you and our cause."

The Dark Lord chuckled, lowly in throat, the sound like a viper's hiss, "Yes, I know you would agree. You are of my most loyal and trusted and for this task you shall ever be remembered as such."

"Tell me My Lord," the witch croaked, leaning forward anxiously, "Tell me the plan."

"I require a child."

A pause that passed between the two lasted the span of three or four heartbeats and took Bellatrix two tries to say, "A child, My Lord?"

"Yes, a child."

Bellatrix, for a very rare moment, was at a loss for words. A child? While she certainly had no qualms about doing any and everything at the command of her master, kidnapping did not exactly suit her palate. But then again, a filthy Muggle child or a Mudblood child was something she could certainly overlook.

"Whose child, My Lord?" she asked, leaning in closer to the dark wizard so as to not miss a word of his decree.

"Your child, Bella," was the whispered response, "Or rather the child that you shall conceive."

The statement coupled with the conviction behind it caused the ebony haired witch's breath to catch in her throat. Conceive a _child_? She was well past her childbearing years, something she was sure her time in Azkaban had helped to accelerate. And even if it had not, bearing children had never been something she had ever wanted to do. As a result of this passionate desire to _not_ become some snot nosed twerp's mother, she had regularly taken contraception potions whenever she and Rodolphus were bound by duty to intimate. While in the beginning it had been frustrating for her arranged husband that they had consistently failed to produce an heir to carry on the Lestrange name, the fervor for the Dark Lord soon had taken over his desire for a son.

"My Lord," Bellatrix spoke carefully, even despite the chill in her blood, "Perhaps you would prefer someone better _equipped_ for the task?"

"If the concern is your age, Bella, I have already taken the liberties of ensuring it shall not be an issue."

The dark haired witch felt as if her heart might actually pound itself out of her rib cage as she murmured, "My Lord?"

"I have enlisted the aid of Severus. He is brewing a potion that will effectively subtract the necessary years from your age as we speak."

It was as if someone had aimed 'Stupefy' between her eyes. She knew very well of Snape's potions making skills. A de-aging potion that would restore her to the physical state she had been in before Azkaban? In any other sense, this could be considered a miracle. But for the sole purpose to be rendered into a brood mare? Bellatrix did not know if she wanted to vomit or be Crucio'ed on the spot.

"W-when shall it be done, My Lord?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The Dark Lord smiled, a grotesque expression of crinkled cheeks and glistening bone white teeth. "In three days time. On the eve of the new moon. On that day, Harry Potter's time will run out."


End file.
